


my heart skips (skips) a beat

by soniclipstick (veriscence)



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Bucky Barnes Is a Good Bro, Deaf Clint, Fluff, M/M, amputee bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-25
Updated: 2015-02-25
Packaged: 2018-03-15 04:33:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3433736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veriscence/pseuds/soniclipstick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's 'too-fucking-early' am and less than a week before mid-terms, and Clint's knee deep in snow, because some moron accidentally set the communal kitchen on fire. Clint <em>had</em> declared murder in front of all his friends - his frozen balls would be avenged.</p><p>The only wrinkle in the plan is that the aforementioned moron is Phil Coulson. And if Clint wants revenge, he's going to have to first learn to stop his heart from beating faster than the drums in a <em>Fall Out Boy</em> song whenever it gets within a few feet of Phil.</p>
            </blockquote>





	my heart skips (skips) a beat

**Author's Note:**

> Credit for the title goes to Olly Murs' song 'Heart Skips A Beat'
> 
> Thank you to ereshai for beta reading this, please don't ever stop being so awesome. And to tumblr for the idea.

**_EHR EHR EHR EHR EHR EHR_ **

 

"Zzzzssssandwiches!" Clint jolts up from the table and hits the bookshelf above his head.  _Aww, shelf._ That hurt like a  _bitch_. Leaning towards his bedside table (which he'd managed to fit between the desk and the bed because _welcome to college dorms_ ), he slams a hand over the snooze button on his alarm clock.

And oh hello, drool. It's everywhere, from the arm he was sleeping on to the alarm he just snoozed. Speaking of which- hold on just one teeny tiny second-why is it still blaring? He wipes his arm across his mouth and only succeeds in spreading the drool everywhere. But holy shit, it's a week to mid-terms. Sanity is just far too demanding an expectation of him at this point.  

His front door slams open and Clint turns around to see his RA. "Whu-?"

"Did you take your aids out? That's the fire alarm! Get outside!" Maria Hill points towards the front doors.

No, he hadn't actually, Clint realises as the soreness in ears makes itself known to his hazy brain. He nods, quick repetitive shakes of his head, bites his lip against a, 'yes ma'am', and walks out, pushing the double doors open.

And then stops. Maria crashes into his back and he just knows she's going to get payback for that but oh shit. Oh shit oh shit oh shit.

Sometime between when he fell asleep and now, the sky had decided to divorce the clouds, at which point the clouds had thrown a hissy fit, and over a foot of snow now blanketed the campus. Clint is wearing his t-shirt and flip-flops. He hopes the sky called lawyers because this is just intolerable. 

What is obviously more intolerable to Maria at this point is Clint's corporeal state of being standing in her way, because she pushes him into the snow ( _why?_ ), and stomps off in the direction of the fire truck that's screeching to a halt. 

When Clint finally gets himself upright, he sees Steve waving enthusiastically in his direction from the crowd outside. Clint stomps his way to Steve, taking every bitter, forceful step hoping to wreak merciless vengeance upon the cursed ground even as his feet burn with the cold.

"What in the name of all that is good and holy is going on?" Clint demands. Steve shrugs and holds his hands out in uncertainty which, by the way, is not a good enough answer because come _on_ , this is Steve I-know-everything-that's-going-on-and-I'm-going-to-protest-it-before-it-hits-the-news Rogers.

And now his ankles have frozen.

He gives up; there's no point in stomping on the snow-covered ground. It's not like the snow is sentient enough to know it is being punished. Clint hugs himself instead, vainly trying to keep the wind from leaching away all of his body heat. He needs that shit.

"Fire alarm, what do you think that means, moron?" It's Bucky, Steve's boyfriend.

" _You're_ a fire alarm. Wait, when did you get here?" Clint snaps.

"I was here the whole time, fuckwit. Why are you wearing flip-flops in February?" he asks, sticking his hand into Steve's back pocket; it should be the dorkiest thing ever but it's kind of cute. He's using the empty long sleeve of his left arm as a scarf, which Clint would usually at least try and make fun of, except Clint's in a t-shirt and yes, that was a full body shudder. _Fuck_ this cold ass weather. 

"Hello boys." A freezing hand grabs him by the elbow from behind. He turns to kiss Natasha's cheek when she plants a wet one on his. Sam checks him on the shoulder before leaning up against the tree behind them.

"What's going on?" Sam asks.

"Hell if I know," Clint tells him. "Okay seriously. Fire drills? At this time?" He ignores Bucky's annoying voice saying 'Do you even know what time it is?' and continues, "Because it's mid-terms; everyone's studying and stressed, and they pull a drill? What the fuck even?"

"The kitchen was on fire when I passed it," Natasha corrects before pulling away. "You're cold and useless. And I totally saw you asleep on your desk half an hour ago."

"Are you kidding me?" Clint ignores her jab, shaking a fist, "Is that a joke? I am going to kill whichever motherfucker decided to do this while the rest of us were hard at studying! I mean it, Nat, mark my words! There  _will_  be payback!"

"Okay, dummy. I'm sure there will. There's still drool on your face, by the way," Natasha mutters as she looks around them. Clint wipes his face with his t-shirt as Natasha walks towards Bruce Banner, who is standing a ways away from them. He's a friend of Tony Stark, who's a frenemy of Natasha's, and tends to stick to himself. Clint almost doesn't recognise him, huddled in a green down jacket that's at least two sizes too big, the hood up and covering most of his face. It looks really warm though. "Hey Banner, come over here," she calls out. He waddles over to the group, raising a hand in hello before sticking it right back in his jacket pocket. Ohhh pockets. Now Clint's the one who's green. With envy.

"Think you can fit another person in that coat of yours?" Of course, Natasha's tiny and smart so she opens up the front zipper of the jacket, presses herself next to Bruce, and zips the two of them up. "Umm, that's better, right?" Natasha asks Bruce, whose cheeks are turning the colour of Natasha's hair.

Well, it's not like he could've fit in there anyway, Clint reluctantly admits to himself, Clint's all big ugly shoulders without Steve's height to pull them off. Besides, there's no point in dwelling on his insecurities when he could be dwelling on the injustices of the world.

"You guys need to take me seriously! I swear, who in their right mind pulls this sort of shit the week before exams? I'm going to freeze my balls off, and then what? How can I take my exams in peace without unfrozen balls? My balls will be avenged!"

"Yeaaah, that's not gonna happen," Bucky tells him deadpan. Man, why did he ever decide to become friends with such assholes?

"Yes it is. How come I never get any support fro-"

"Hey, look, the fire department’s talking to Phil Coulson, and he looks  _really_ guilty right now," Bucky says, triumph clear in his voice.

Oh.

 

_Oh._

Phil Coulson.

As in, Phil Coulson the criminology major who sits two rows in front of Clint in Psych 101, and spends his free time tutoring the dumbasses who didn't get through their reading and are probably going to fail. Dumbasses like Clint. Phil Coulson with the nerd glasses and the crooked nose that raises so many questions, because how does someone as nice as Phil end up breaking his nose, multiple times from the looks of it? Phil Coulson, the professors' favourite and the RA's best friend.

As in, Phil Coulson who probably thinks Clint is mute as well as a deaf because his ability to speak has this bad habit of  _failing_  when Phil gets even within a few feet of him. It's like Clark Kent and Lana Lang's kryptonite necklace, except unlike Clint, at least Clark Kent was hot as hell and a superhero on top of that.

Well,  _shit_.

"Good.... I'm going with morning." Clint's thoughts are interrupted by the fire chief's megaphone. "There was a small fire in the communal kitchen that has since been put out, you may all return to your rooms."

"What're you waiting for, dipshit? Didn't you say you were going to kill the motherfucker who did this?" Sam grins at him with that shit-eating smile that Clint really wants to punch off his face now. Sam's supposed to _his_ side, damn it.

"Please, the only thing Clint's going to do is whine like a baby and gaze longingly at Phil's ass," Bucky says. Clint kicks snow in his direction but Bucky's great at hiding behind Steve and the snow sprays over the unsuspecting blonds' legs instead. Whoops.

Except now that Steve's laughing along with Bucky, Clint decides to hell with apologies. He can do this. He's not going to stand around and take this much bullshit from people who are supposed to be his friends, the treacherous bastards. He's going to go over there and tear a new one into the moron who set the kitchen on fire.

Even though Phil actually looks kind of upset about the whole thing.

"Fuck you guys," he spits out, ignores Natasha's fond smile and treks towards Phil. He's facing away from Clint, nodding along to Maria. Her voice is surprisingly reserved despite her wild gesticulation. The fire fighters are slowly packing up. Maria leaves Phil behind to start herding the students, who are already on a wild scramble for the doors, and as far away from Maria as possible. He can't blame them. That is one scary face.

Clint's a few feet away from Phil when he turns to head towards the dorms, and catches a glimpse of Phil's forlorn face.

Damn it.

He should move but he can't; his feet are frozen to the ground, which should be worrying, because frostbite  _is_ a thing, but he can't think. His heartbeat is crashing thunder, his ears ache with the vibration. The butterflies are back in his belly, and he feels like throwing them up. Gross.

"Hey Clint," Phil says. Great, he's officially been spotted. No backing out now. Clint can't manage anything other than a shaky and probably creepy looking smile. He  _knows_ Barnes is laughing behind him somewhere but his tongue's gone and stuck itself to the roof of his mouth and his jaw is locked up so his options are limited at this point.  

"I am so,  _so_  sorry," Phil continues, moving past Clint's dilemma like he hasn't noticed how long Clint's been holding that weird ass smile. "I was just trying to bake some cookies because I was so sick of studying and I figured everyone could use something sweet. It isn't like anyone was asleep, you know? Except I set the timer and I just sat down for a minute and then when I woke up the kitchen was on fire and Maria was yelling and-" He pauses to take a deep breath, "I am so,  _so_ sorry."

Clint manages to unstick his tongue long enough to choke out, "It's okay."

"You must be really cold, let's go back in," Phil says. Clint jerks a nod and they begin their walk back into the building.

Once they reach the hallway, Clint takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself.  Unfortunately, when he speaks, it comes out wobbly and awkward. "Do-do you... are you in a lot of trouble?"

Phil hangs his head. "The oven's not broken so I just need to clean it and the rest of the kitchen. And mop up the hallway floors, Maria says the students are going to trudge all the snow and mud in and she doesn't want to see it in the morning..."

"Oh."

"I bet Clint would love to help you out," Bucky says, shouldering him from behind. Clint's head snaps back so fast he hears his neck crack. His so-called friends are all behind him now, crowded around the right side of the hall so the rest of the student body could go back to their rooms.

Traitors. All of them. Well, maybe not all of them. Clint turns desperately to Natasha for help. He can't spend that much time with Phil; it'll be awkward and embarrassing and Phil will never want to speak to him again.

"Clint has a genius recipe for getting burnt crap off of oven pans," Natasha tells Phil.

Damn it.

"Clint, you don't have to help, this is my mess and I don't want to bother anyone else, I'm sorry for-"

But then Phil would have to do all of that work on his own. And he looks so damn tired.

"It's o- okay," Clint blurts out with a wince. _Good job, moron. First you can't get a word in around him, and after that you interrupt him while he's speaking._ Phil's giving him a funny look now, so he decides to just be brave and go with it. "I don't mi-mind helping."

"You don't have to..."

"But I want to," Clint's voice squeaks a bit at the word 'want', but hey, at least he'd gotten the whole sentence out without a stutter.  

"Well then it's a deal," Bucky says. "Clint's helping you, and if you really feel bad, you can take him out for cookies and coffee. I call that the broke student dating style." He winks at a mortified Clint before he's dragged away by Steve who mouths an apology in his direction. He stares at Natasha, who kisses his cheek and walks away with the others. He's left staring at their path, feeling like he's about to climb up Mount Doom.

He's going to kill Bucky. It'll probably make Steve cry but Steve's a big boy; he'd survive. Probably. There's just no other choice. Bucky Barnes has to die.

"How about it then?" Phil asks from behind him. "I think Starbucks might open by the time we're done with this mess."

"You don't have to- to thank me with food. Bucky's a giant dickhead."

"You're going to take that back after you see the state of the kitchen," Phil says, cheeks a really pretty shade of pink. "And uh, I was kinda hoping it could be a first date, if that's, you know, something you wanted." He shrugs and begins to march towards the kitchen, leaving Clint a gaping like an ugly fish. He's an embarrassment to fishes everywhere. Fish. The plural might be fish. He should probably ask Peggy, she knows everything- wait hold on.

Clint follows, reaching for Phil's wrist with one hand. He freezes, and Clint freezes right behind him. Slowly, Phil turns around. He's flushed red, and hot damn. He really does blush pretty. "I want that." Clint admits, growing bolder when Phil smiles at him, warm and bright. "I really want that," he repeats.

He's still holding onto Phil's wrist and Phil leans in until their faces are inches from each other. "Can I kiss you?"

Wow, and hello butterflies, hello thudding heartbeat. Clint can't speak; he nods shakily.

Cold, but soft lips are feather-light against his. There's barely any pressure, this is the chastest kiss that Clint has ever had. Oh. Right. This is when people usually kiss back.  _Idiot._  They move together, careful and curious, then spring apart at the slamming of a door shut behind them.

"Phil Coulson, if I discover you set that kitchen on fire just to get into Barton's pants, I swear I'll skin you alive."It's Maria; her arms crossed in front of her and face wearing a scowl. 

"What? No, Mar-"

"I want my kitchen and my floors clean by tomorrow morning, or you'll never make it to Starbucks alive."

"Kitchens. Floors. Got it." Phil nods. Maria fixes them both with a scrutinising look, then stalks away, hands swinging dangerously back and forth. Clint thinks he might have peed in his shorts a little.

"I can't believe she's your best friend. She's terrifying," Clint whispers.

"I know," Phil whispers back.

"I can still hear you, and thank you!" Maria yells back from around the corner.

They look at each other. "Kitchen?" Phil asks.

"Kitchen."Clint follows Phil in, his fingers intertwined with Phil's.

 

* * *

 

 Okay, maybe he'll let Bucky live.

 _For now_.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> The original tumblr post was [a list of college au ideas](http://soniclipstick.tumblr.com/post/111995589266/bluandorange-inthebackoftheimpala) and the ones I used were:
> 
> -its 3am, in the dead of winter, some motherfucker pulled/set off the fire alarm and I am being very vocal about how I’m gonna make that fucker pay
> 
> -you’re the fucker who set off the fire alarm with your awful cooking


End file.
